


There Is a Light That Never Goes Out

by ryostrenchcoat



Series: Corpse Ryo [1]
Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction, kind of, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryostrenchcoat/pseuds/ryostrenchcoat
Summary: Before the end of the world, there had been a boy named Ryo. After the end of the world, Ryo lived on.A collection of song-fics (of sorts) within the manga universe.





	1. The Michael Jordan of Drunk Driving

**Author's Note:**

> _The Michael Jordan of drunk driving played his final game tonight_   
>  _Emburdened by his loneliness, he wanted to feel alive_   
>  _His laziness built the pyramids and his solitude was a knife_   
>  _The Michael Jordan of drunk driving played his final game tonight_

When he was younger, phone calls didn’t make Asuka Masao anxious. He associated the tinny ringing with conversations with his friends late into the night, catching up with family members, receiving news about this scholarship, that award - not always good news, but always something comforting, a connection via voice and wires to make up for physical distance.

Ever since his wife’s death four years ago, the clanging of a phone hit him with a cold rush of adrenaline that quickened his pulse but slowed his movements like he was moving through water. With his hand on a phone, he now thought briefly of Schrodinger's cat. Until he pulled it off the reciever and put it up to his ear, a call could be either good news or world-shattering. His body now braced for world-shattering every time. Considering the current call was at 4:37 AM, Masao’s typical physical reaction seemed perfectly appropriate. 

“Hello?” he said, free hand rubbing at his eyes. A moment passed, and Masao hoped it was his son formulating a good excuse to be out at this time of the night. 

“Is this Masao Asuka?” an unfamiliar voice asked in Spanish. Masao sank to his knees, phone-cord only just long enough to accomodate the motion. He did not have good associations with this question. 

“This is he.”

“This is Officer Hernandez with the Villahermosa Police Department. I’m afraid your son, Ryo, was in a fatal car accident earlier this morning. We need you to confirm the identity of the body. I’m very sorry, sir.”

\---

If one were to ask Masao how he had gotten to the morgue, he wouldn’t be able to answer. The night of his son’s death did not exist in his mind as a whole narrative, but only in bits and pieces that were frayed at the edges as though they’d been ripped from some other reality. From a nightmare. 

Sitting in his office with his late wife’s photo album in front of him, Masao certainly felt like he was living in a nightmare. The pictures lovingly tucked into glossy pages with annotations in Eden’s handwriting like “Ryo, 5 years old” didn’t match the corpse the police had pulled from Masao’s car. In the photos, Ryo’s face was smiling, his body whole. At the morgue, his pale face had been mottled purple, lips bitten through, forehead bloody and caved in from the collision with the steering wheel. Masao had pulled out the album so he could remember his son’s face as it had been, but he was instead envisioning all the images of Ryo with crushed limbs and lacerations from broken glass. 

Despite his best efforts to remember Ryo’s face free of harm, blue eyes sparkling, freckles dotting his nose and cheekbones, front teeth that overlapped slightly bared in a smile, Masao was haunted by the last time he would ever see his son’s face in person. The police told him that Ryo had probably been drinking: there were no other cars on the road at that hour and no obvious alternative explanation for how the car had ended up in the ditch. The coroner said that he died instantly upon impact and that he didn’t suffer. 

Their words stuck with Masao, though he had heard them only distantly as if his ears had been plugged with cotton. He was too transfixed by his son’s last facial expression, barely recognizable beneath the blood, swelling, and caved-in features. 

His son had looked afraid. 

Masao threw back another gulp of whisky before returning to the task at hand. He had already picked out the last photograph for the album: it was Ryo out in the field with him, notebook in one hand and water bottle in the other, using the notebook to shield his eyes from the bright Mexican sunlight. He wasn’t looking at the camera but out into the distance, probably at one of his dad’s colleagues. Masao couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter now. The boy in the photo with scratched knees showing under his shorts and a long-sleeved shirt protecting his fair skin from the sun that illuminated his hair would never look at his dad or anyone else ever again.

Masao carefully placed the photo in the sleeve along with a final note: “Today, Ryo died in a car accident.”

\---

The next night in the Centro Morgue, the body of Asuka Ryo opened his eyes. 

_I didn’t expect that it would take you so long to wake up, sir,_ rang Psychogenie’s voice telepathically through his brain. 

“There was a lot of mending to do. Our method was efficient for phase one, but cleanup took some effort. I think he’s usable now, though,” Ryo spoke aloud for the first time since being reanimated. His voice was recognizable but more emphatic in a way that couldn’t be explained by the slight echo in the chilly, nearly empty morgue. It seemed to bounce off of corners that weren’t there, ringing out like church bells. 

_Once we get you back to the boy’s house, we can start the next phase of the plan._

Before Ryo could respond, he heard the clatter of medical tools hitting the floor and a woman’s voice screaming incoherently as she ran away. How inconvenient. Without bothering to seek her out, Ryo sat up and stretched his stiff limbs before sliding off the embalming table. 

“Make sure to wipe her memory as well.”

_Already done, my lord._


	2. Please Don't Tell My Father That I Used His 1996 Honda Accord To Destroy The Town Of Willow Grove, Pennsylvania In 2002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Between the bong rips and knife hits_   
>  _Protestant booze_   
>  _Stick-and-poke tattoos_   
>  _We were just over-privileged youth seeking something to do_   
>  _And I could not see my street sign through the smoke_   
>  _Just an afterthought rushing past all the laws we broke_

_Dude, this is not the time to gawk,_ Akira thought. _Open your idiot mouth and say something._

“Asuka!” he cried out, voice breaking. _FUCK. Not like that! What was that? Are you 12, Fudo?_

The cause of his inner turmoil tipped his head up and smirked, looking at Akira from under the longest eyelashes he’d ever seen on a man. _Have Ryo’s lashes always been that long?_

“Fudo, I need you for something. Come over to my place,” Ryo called out to him, seemingly unconcerned about the scene that he interrupted. His devastatingly blue eyes only held a look of expectation. 

_I would follow you anywhere just for the view - wait, what? Can you stop being gay for like, a second?_ “Uh, actually,” he stammered out, gesturing over to Dosu-Roku’s gang who are still very present and very much holding Miki against a wall by her wrists, “I’m in a bit of trouble. Look at this!” 

Ryo glanced over at the scene behind Akira, but the look in his eyes merely changed to one of impatience, as though the biggest issue with a gang attacking Miki was that it was an inconvenience. “What I need is more important,” he said after a moment. “Come now.”

For another agonizing moment, his first instinct was to do exactly as Ryo asked despite everything else. However, Miki sensed from Akira’s slack-jawed look and shuffle of his feet exactly what he was about to do, and finally spoke up. “Akira, wait!” she yelled, stopping him in his tracks and knocking some degree of sense back into him. 

“I can’t just leave, Ryo! Help me out here!” Akira said, but Dosu-Roku intervened before he could respond.

“Hey! Are we going to do this or not?” Tightening his grip on Miki’s wrists, Dosu-Roku sized Ryo up. “If you’re up for it, it’ll be a perfect three-on-three! This is getting interesting!” Turning his gaze from Ryo back to Miki, he sneered at her, hot breath ghosting her face. “But I’m taking this bitch. You two take care of those two boys.”

Akira fully turned away from Ryo to see Dosu-Roku’s two minions approaching him with a knife and chain respectively. “That’s a little unfair,” said the one with a chain, wrapping it around his hand and visibly disappointed with his orders. 

His partner, however, seemed perfectly content just to get some violence in as he clicked his switchblade. “Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it!” 

The two delinquents stalked towards Akira and Ryo before suddenly stopping in their tracks, looks of horror upon their faces. Akira stepped back, not sure why the confrontation had ground to a halt, when Ryo spoke up.

“Pistols are hard to come by.”

Akira turned to face his friend again just in time to see him pull a sawed-off rifle from a holster hidden under his coat. _Oh shit, Ryo, no -_

“So I remodeled this hunting rifle,” Ryo said breezily, as though he was discussing paint swatches rather than brandishing a gun at a couple of armed ruffians. _He always has been crafty with stuff like that._

“You can’t be serious!” cried Mr. Chain, backing away. “B-boss!”

Dosu-Roku and Miki were both watching from the wall in shock, his grip on her wrists slackening but Miki was far too absorbed with the fact that her adopted brother’s friend had just pulled out a _gun_ to take advantage of the situation. “That can’t be real!” Dosu-Roku barked nervously, sweat pouring down his face. 

Ryo just smirked. “That’d be nice, but if it is real, you guys will be in a lot of shit.”

Dosu-Roku finally released Miki’s hands, and she backed away as he balled his fists and approached Ryo, laughing anxiously. “You must be crazy!”

Ryo’s facial expression darkened, eyebrows drawing down and eyes hardening, though his tone remained casual. “That’s right, I’m crazy.” Before Akira could say anything, Ryo opened fire on the ground near the gang’s feet. They danced like marionettes to avoid the bullets while Ryo just looked amused. 

_Holy shit, is this the same Ryo? What the hell happened in Mexico?_ Akira stood there, blinking and gaping, until Ryo’s voice snapped him out of it. 

“Fudo, let’s go!”

“Uh...Miki, I’m going to stop by his place first. Why don’t you go home without me? Can you take my bag?” Akira asked. Miki, looking positively shaken by both a near assault and Ryo firing a fucking gun, blankly accepted Akira’s bag as he darted after Ryo. _I’m sorry, Miki, I promise I’ll check in on you later. FUCK, Ryo’s legs are long!_ “Ryo, wait up!” 

Ryo didn’t slow his pace, forcing Akira to run to catch up with him. The easy confidence he’d displayed in front of the gang was gone, replaced by hunched shoulders and hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. Akira resisted the urge to touch his shoulders - Ryo looked wound tight, like a spring about to snap from too much pressure. “Ryo, what’s going on?” He asked instead, “Why are you carrying such...a dangerous thing?”

Ryo kept walking, but turned to look at him. Up close, Akira could get a good look at his friend’s face, once so familiar to him, now slightly different, uncanny in ways he couldn’t quite place. His nose seemed straighter, his eyelashes longer, his freckles fainter. _Maybe he started wearing makeup or something?_

Ryo licked his bottom lip before responding. “I think my life is in danger.” He turned his head to look forward once more, leading Akira along a dicey street full of convenience stores. 

“In danger…? What if the cops find out you have that gun?”

He scoffed, as though committing a felony was no small matter. “My enemy is a lot scarier than the cops.”

“What?!” He had no clue what had gotten into him, but he didn’t get to ask before Ryo walked up to a car and opened the passenger door. 

“Get in,” he ordered. 

Akira looked at the car door and then at Ryo. “Who’s going to drive?”

He smiled at him. _Did he get his teeth fixed? The front two used to overlap. It was cute._ “I’ll drive.”

“What? You’re not supposed to have your license until you’re 18!”

Ryo reached into the pocket of his corduroy pants and pulled out a poorly doctored driver’s license. “I’ve just made some changes to my dad’s. I’m 18 for now.”

As he stood there and sputtered, Ryo went in through the passenger door and scooted to the driver’s side. He put the key in the ignition and turned to look expectantly at Akira. 

_He’s just being too weird today. I’m going to give him some space. I need some room to think._ With a begrudging sigh, Akira shut the passenger door and got in the back seat instead. 

“We’re going to get caught,” he said. 

“Calm down.” He peered back at Akira through the rearview mirror as he revved up the engine. “You won’t be the one arrested.” With that, he pulled out of the parking spot and darted out towards the highway, the speed of the car forcing Akira back into his seat.

He pulled himself back up, propping himself on the back of the front seat. “Don’t go so fast! Are you okay? You’ve been really weird today.” 

No response from Ryo. 

“I still can’t believe you actually shot that gun! What if they got hurt?” Akira tried again.

His shoulders hunched forward even more. “It wouldn’t have mattered even if they died,” he muttered.

Akira flopped back into the seat with a sigh. _Clearly, I’m not going to get anything out of him unless I dig a little deeper._ “How long have you been back from Mexico?”

He couldn’t see him well from this position, but Ryo’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly.

“Flew back in a couple days ago. I had to get some ducks in a row before I could come see you again, though, or I would have called immediately.” 

He perked up. “Oh, that’s okay, I know international travel is really exhausting. You must have needed time to rest. What about your dad? I thought you all were going to stay for a least a year, but it’s only been a few months.” 

A pregnant pause. Ryo appeared to be collecting his thoughts, so he took the opportunity to get comfortable in the spacious backseat of Dr. Asuka’s expensive car. There were even throw pillows. It was pretty clear that Ryo had gotten more use out of it recently, though - the floor was littered with empty Diet Coke cans and crumpled up snack wrappers, with slightly crumpled research notes visible below.

“My father died,” Ryo suddenly announced, breaking Akira’s reverie. 

“What?!” He launched himself forward again, now distinctly regretting his decision to sit in the back seat instead of next to his friend. “Professor Asuka is -”

“I’m totally alone now. He was my only family.” Ryo had always had a habit of having strange reactions when he was stressed. He tended to smile or laugh at the saddest times, confusing and alienating all those around him except Akira. With a distant look in his eyes and smile on his face, he finished his thought: “Now there’s nothing left for me.”

Silent tears had already started streaming down Akira’s face. _First his mom, and now this._ “But...when you left, he looked so well…”

“I know. He didn’t die from illness. He committed suicide. He covered himself in gasoline and set himself on fire.” His smile was gone now, replaced by a grim face staring out at the road. His hands on the steering wheel had turned white with his grip. 

Even after his wife’s death, Masao Asuka had always seemed to be a light-hearted, jovial man. The news of his suicide was a shock to Akira. “What? Why would he -”

“The charred remains of my father were twice as heavy as when he was alive.”

“Wh- what?” he shifted from grief for his friend to sheer confusion. 

“My skinny dad couldn’t have weighed 120 kilos,” Ryo continued. “The size of his body didn’t change - only his weight doubled.”

“But how is that possible? That’s like some sort of supernatural story…”

He paused to gulp visibly, Adam’s apple bobbing on the pale column of his throat. _Focus, Fudo. This is not the time for that._

“My father left me an inheritance. A frightening inheritance.” Ryo grimaced, looking far older than 17 in that moment. “I wish I never found out. I would have been happier if I had never known. But since I found out, I couldn’t turn away from it. This isn’t something I can inherit by myself.” 

Once they pulled into the Asuka driveway, Ryo parked and turned to face him. “Fudo Akira, I want you to share with me the inheritance I received from my father.” 

He couldn’t hide his fear, but he followed Ryo out of the car and up to house. Akira had once only associated this home with fond memories of afternoons climbing trees and nights spent eating popcorn and reading comic books, one issue spread on the floor with two boys laying on their stomachs side by side. Ryo always held the flashlight and Akira turned the page because he read slower. Now, the woods surrounding the Asuka home seemed menacing and full of secrets and the hilltop mansion felt as though it was on both a literal and metaphorical precipice. 

As his friend started in on the multiple locks on the front door, he looked him over once more. This was definitely Ryo, but there was just something...uncanny about him that his strange behavior didn’t explain. Akira zeroed in on the most familiar aspects remaining on his face - the curve of his lips, the arch of his brows, and, sadly, the purplish bags under his eyes. 

“I’m about to push my own best friend into a horrible fate. If possible, I didn’t want to involve you, but -” Ryo paused as tears finally, _finally_ fell down his face. “There is no one else I trust. Everyone else looks like an enemy to me. The only human being I can tell this to is you, Akira? Do you understand?” 

In that moment, he was again struck by the thought that he’d follow Ryo anywhere, he’d do anything, just to have those blue eyes on him, to be in his presence, to see that face. He would take Ryo’s trust, so fragile and precious, and lock it away deep inside him for protection. If there was something he could do to take the bags from under Ryo’s eyes, he would do it, freely and gladly. 

“To tell you the truth, I am afraid. But Asuka Ryo, I don’t want to betray your trust. Even if that means falling down into Hell.” 

This wasn’t quite the face he remembered, but the bones were still there. This wasn’t the same Ryo he’d said goodbye to on that swingset a couple months ago, but this was still _Ryo,_ and that was all that mattered. Ryo and Akira, the lonely kids on the playground, forever intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout-out to @doubledebiru for editing this for me and encouraging my ass to use some damn pronouns every now and again


	3. Historiography

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _There was rain, there was wind_   
>  _There was spring coming in_   
>  _There was a feeling of approaching doom_   
>  _I was happy to see you_
> 
> _It was cold in your room and you were warm and that's all I remember_  
>  _And your arms were warm and that's all I remember_

_“Ugrhfrhfhhh.”_

“Tell me how you really feel,” Ryo chuckled as he stripped out of his street clothes splattered in demon ichor and changed into a loose t-shirt and striped pajama pants. After being ordered to wipe himself off with a damp hand-towel, Akira immediately flopped onto the mattress on the floor of Ryo’s studio apartment. His exhaustion was understandable - the hunt had been easy compared to fighting Sirene, but the gryphon-fox hybrid Marchosias had still been a formidable enemy. Thankfully she hadn’t been able to dig her claws very deeply into Akira and his shallow slash-wounds were already healing, but the general walloping he had received had left him quite achy. 

While he did not begrudge Akira’s exhaustion, he wasn’t about to go to bed himself without washing up and changing into pajamas. If he’d had more energy, Akira probably would have teased him, but this was one small comfort that Ryo refused to let the demons take away from him. They could kill his dad, destroy his childhood home, and haunt his dreams, but he would still cling to threads of normalcy when possible. He may be in a constant cold sweat, but washing that off at the end of the day helped him to feel a little more sane. 

Squinting at himself in the bathroom mirror now, he certainly didn’t _look_ sane. His face was coated in a fine layer of grime from ichor and his own sweat, his eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles, and his hair was terribly tangled from the chase and Akira flying them back to his car. After washing his face and brushing his hair and teeth, he realized that he should help Akira with his soreness. 

He leaned his head out of the bathroom doorway. “Do you want some ibuprofen or something?”

_Grunt._

“Can you ask nicer?” Akira hadn’t spoken since agreeing to spend the night with him instead of driving all the way back to the Makimuras’, and he was starting to get worried. Usually they would go hunting on weeknights and Ryo would drop Akira off back home so he could go to school in the morning. However, this particular demon had been consistently killing off hikers outside the city, so Akira told Akiko that he was spending Friday evening with Ryo and might spend the night if they were out too late. 

“Can I have an ibuprofen, please,” came Akira’s muffled voice from the pillows. 

Ryo took a couple of pills from the bathroom and walked over to the kitchen area to pour him a glass of water before coming back to Akira, nudging him gently with his foot until he sat up enough to accept the offering. He sleepily threw the pills back and gulped the water down, handing the glass back with a mumbled but sincere “thanks.” Ryo placed the glass in the sink and looked dispassionately at the dirty coffee mugs within before deciding those were a problem for future Ryo. Present Ryo needed to go the _fuck_ to sleep. 

He padded back over to the mattress and waffled for a moment before sliding underneath the covers, keeping a respectful and _completely platonic_ distance. He turned on his side to face away from Akira and willed his heart to stop thumping so hard. He took a few deep breaths and had almost drifted off when Akira’s deep, tired voice got his attention. 

“This is nice. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a sleepover.”

He could tell that Akira was currently turned to face his back and anguished over whether or not to turn around. He decided it was safer to stay still. 

“Yeah, I guess the last time was right after my mom died.” 

\---

“My mom said she was making brownies for dessert,” Akira said, small smile on his lips. Ryo looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on his friend’s bedroom floor and accepted the glass of juice he handed to him. 

“Thanks,” he responded listlessly, seemingly unenthused by the concept of brownies. He held the juice without actually drinking, his hands resting on his legs and fidgeting slightly. Akira tried not to wince at the sight of his fingertips, nails bitten to the quick and cuticles abused from when he ran out of nail to bite. He tore his gaze away to focus on Ryo’s face instead, but he was just frowning slightly into his drink as though confused as to why he had it. 

“Sucks that it’s raining so hard,” Akira said, sitting down with him. 

“It’s okay, I didn’t really feel like going to the park anyway.” 

That in and of itself was troubling. Ryo _always_ wanted to go outside, happiest when he was surrounded by nature. Akira would swear he photosynthesized, but they were usually stopped by Ryo’s mom so she could force sunscreen on him before they ran out. 

Ryo’s mom was gone now. 

“Well, it’s still gonna be a little while before dinner. Do you wanna play cards or something?” Maybe a victory over Akira and his awful poker face would lift Ryo’s spirits a bit. 

“If you want.”

Deciding that was probably the most enthusiasm he was going to get, Akira stood up and set his own drink down on his desk. “I’ll go get the deck from the living room, then!”

Leaving him once more, Akira felt a deep-seated sense of guilt that seemed to radiate out from his heart throughout his body. He wanted so badly to help Ryo feel better, but he didn’t know how to approach him. His mother’s death had been so sudden and tragic, and Ryo’s grief was palpable and unrelenting, like a haze surrounding him. Akira was torn between the urge to exude positive energy and the feeling, perhaps irrational, that being happy around him was _irresponsible_. It was as if Ryo needed to be distracted from the reality of his mom being gone while at the same time, forgetting even for a moment to be sad for Eden would be an insult to her memory. 

He told himself that that was wrong: he knew Eden, he knew how much she loved her son and that she would want him to heal and be happy. Unfortunately, this knowledge of the desired destination didn’t translate into Akira knowing how to get there. 

They played cards for a while. Ryo won 3 times without cracking a smile once. They ate dinner. Ryo picked at his food. They took their brownies back to Akira’s room. Ryo nibbled at the edges. Akira tried everything he could, but nothing could break him out of his sadness. 

Before long, it was bedtime. Had they been in better spirits, they would have been up late into the night chatting in what they thought were hushed tones until Akira’s mother told them to hush. Given the current state of affairs, they were in bed by 10 PM with Akira in his bed and Ryo in a sleeping bag on the floor. 

“Good night, Ryo.”

“‘Night.”

~~~

Ryo woke with a jolt, his pajamas clinging to his body with sweat. He looked around the room in a panic, trying to get his bearings, before remembering that he was staying with Akira. He pulled his legs up and crossed his arms over them, resting his head on top and trying to slow his breathing. 

_Deep breath in, push it back out. Deep breath in, push it back out. You’re at Akira’s house. Your dad is probably fine. Everything is going to be fine._

“Ryo?” asked Akira, groggy and concerned. 

_Shit. How much more can you possibly ruin his night? Pull yourself together, Asuka._

“I’m okay. I’m sorry for waking you up; just go back to sleep.” 

“You didn’t sound okay. You were gasping for breath just a minute ago,” said Akira, sitting up and reaching over to turn the bedside lamp on. Its soft yellow light soon lit up the room, revealing Akira’s bed-mussed hair and sheetlines etched into his face. Ryo, however, was much worse for wear, with red eyes, shaking hands, and a visible sheen of sweat on his face. 

“What happened? Did you have a nightmare?” 

_Don’t bother him with this. You’ve already been a downer all night._

“Yeah, but it’s okay. We should just go back to sleep.” 

“Do you want to talk about it? Usually if I say it out loud, it makes me realize that it was all a dream and I feel better.”

“Um. No, I don’t think so. I just want to forget about it.” _Saying “I dreamt my dad died too” out loud will just make me cry and make everything worse._

Akira stared at him, concern and sadness _(pity)_ on his face, before scooting over and patting the now vacant side of the bed. 

“Come up here. Sleeping on the floor isn’t any fun.”

Ryo blinked owlishly at him. “Um, that’s okay, I don’t mind the floor. I have my sleeping bag; it was just a bad dream.”

“Come on! It’ll be comfier. Please?” 

He was feeling way too many things at once, emotions fighting in his stomach like caged animals. Fear from the dream, anxiety from the evening, worry that sharing a bed would be awkward. _But he looks so sincere. Maybe it would be nice._

With a silent nod, he shimmied out of the sleeping bag and laid down on the bed, Akira smiling softly at him. He took a moment to get the sheets over him and find a comfortable position _not facing_ his friend. 

“Can you turn the lamp back off?” 

He reached over and fumbled with the switch for a second before plunging the room back into darkness. 

_Deep breath in, push it back out. Deep breath in, push it back out._

“I’m glad you came over tonight. Being by yourself isn’t any fun.”

_Is he just saying that? You weren’t any fun tonight. You tried your best and you still couldn’t fake it, even for him._

“I’m glad too. Thanks for inviting me.” He could _feel_ Akira smiling next to him, and for just a second, everything really did feel okay. 

“Good night, Ryo!”

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to tumblr user @vobomon for letting me use their demonsona in this/letting ryo and akira murder them
> 
> link to the demon: https://toyhou.se/2106479.marchosias


	4. Not Dead Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Oh come on, come on, come on_   
>  _Give me a sign of life_   
>  _'Cause there's another way that I'd rather be_   
>  _If I could only get you alone_   
>  _It's an inside joke that I never get_   
>  _And I'm dying inside but I'm not dead yet_

Ryo’s bus stop was the last one on the line. The Asuka mansion was hidden away in the woods far outside the city, and his ride to and from school usually took about 45 minutes. When he was younger, his mom used to drive him to and from school, but now it was just him and his dad, who didn’t want to lose hours of research time. 

So the bus it was. 

No one ever sat next to him. He projected an aura of surliness and inapproachability that kept his classmates at bay and always sat his bag on the seat next to him. He sat near the back so the driver wouldn’t feel tempted to chat when they were the only ones left on the bus. 

He knew from experience that most people didn’t like talking to him very much anyway. The one person who had always enjoyed his presence transferred schools and now he felt lost with no bearings or guide. This translated into him being what his teachers called “an incredibly gifted, polite student who seems ostracized by his peers.” 

He handed notes like this to his father, who would look guilty, ask him vague questions about how he’s doing, and eventually give up and wander back into his office. He _wanted_ to help his son, but he clearly didn’t know _how_.

Ryo didn’t really know how either. 

The bus creaked and groaned as it pulled to a stop at the end of his driveway. The driver wished him a good weekend, and with a mumbled “you too,” he got off and walked up to the gate, fumbling in his pocket for the keys. Asuka Masao rarely locked the front door during the day, but the gate around the mansion locked automatically. 

Putting his keys in the lock, he found himself missing Akira again. He had an _incredibly dorky_ “Speed Racer” keychain that had been a present from his friend a couple of years ago. He didn’t even like “Speed Racer” all that much, but they had read the manga together when they were younger and sleepily watched the anime on Saturday mornings over breakfast. As such, the silly charm had way more sentimental value than the 50 yen that it had probably cost Akira. Pulling his keys back out and pushing the heavy, dark wooden door open, Ryo stepped inside and was greeted by the distinct _clack, clack, clack_ of a dog running to find him.

_“Oof,”_ he wheezed as the pit bull collided into him. “Hey, John. That’s the boy.” He took the dog’s paws and pulled them off his legs to settle back down on the floor before dropping his bag off on the paisley-printed couch in the living room. He walked into the kitchen, John trotting along close behind, and made a beeline for the cabinet where they kept the dry dog food. As John wagged his tail hard enough to threaten a sprain, Ryo refilled his food and water bowls and left the dog to eat his lunch. 

“I’m home,” he called as he passed his dad’s office. 

“Hey! Did you feed John?” Masao called back from whatever pile of documents he was currently buried in. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna rest for a bit and call Akira,” he responded. 

He climbed the stairs up to his bedroom and took off his uniform jacket, draping it over the back of his desk chair before flopping down on his bed with a groan. After a few moments, he could hear the clacking of John’s claws against the stairs and down the hall and with a _whump_ , the dog joined him on the bed and snuggled against his side, tail wagging lazily. He lifted a hand to scratch idly at John’s ears, staring listlessly at the ceiling of his bedroom as though the swirls of the plaster would offer some comfort. He didn’t get to stew for very long before John, overcome with affection for his owner, snuggled closer and began his quest to lick every square inch of Ryo’s face. 

“Okay, okay, hold on now,” Ryo laughed, covering his face with his hands and trying to avoid any sneak attacks of a dog’s tongue into his mouth. As much as he loved the silly animal, he did not enjoy John’s penchant for trying to kiss his mouth, even though it seemed those were the only kisses he could get. 

Ryo still had higher standards than that. 

With that thought in mind, he reached over to pull the phone on his nightstand off the hook and dialed one of the two numbers that he knew by heart. The phone in his room was a bit of a luxury, but his dad could afford it and knew how much being able to call Akira meant to him, especially now that they attended different schools. He used the hand not holding the phone to stroke John’s head while waiting for his friend to pick up for their now sacrosanct Friday Night Call. 

A clatter, then a breathless greeting: “Makimura residence, Fudo Akira speaking!”

“Do you really need to give me the business formal salutation every time?” Ryo was glad that Akira couldn’t see the amused, absolutely smitten expression on his face.

“Well, it’s not my house really, and even though it’s _probably_ you calling on Friday, I can’t know that for certain until you answer, so I don’t want to risk saying ‘hey man! How’s it going?’ to Mr. Makimura’s coworker or something. So until I can magically know that it’s you before answering, then yes, you will get the formal greeting.”

“Because you are polite and considerate.”

“I am so damn polite and considerate.”

“All right Mr. ‘Voted Best To Take Home To Mom,’ how was your week? Are you surviving world literature without me?”

“You _know_ that I’m not. I’m telling you, Ryo, I can’t read. I’m illiterate. Everyone in class says stuff like ‘oh, the whale is clearly a metaphor for how man can never truly conquer nature’ and I’m just sitting there in the back looking dumb until the teacher calls on me for being _clearly clueless_ and I have to open my dumb mouth and say ‘I just thought Moby Dick was a whale.’ I _need_ you. We have a paper due soon and I don’t have five sentences to say about it, much less five pages.”

“Maybe if you ask me really nicely, I’ll help talk you through the symbolism a little bit. A _little_. I have my own homework and I’m not gonna write your papers and mine, Fudo.” 

“Now listen here, I’m not asking for that anyway! I’m not a cheater. I just want to pass and move on. I just have one tiny issue.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I can’t _fucking_ read.” 

“That does sound like an obstacle.”

“Like you would know, Mr. Straight A’s. I’m serious, I think you were the only reason I was doing decently grade-wise. Stuff just doesn’t make as much sense without you here to talk to me about it. I can’t get through a textbook when I could be doing something that’s actually, you know, interesting. You somehow found a way to make this stuff engaging.”

If Ryo could glow and float on sheer happiness alone, he would have. In the meantime, he was just blushing bright red and smiling like an idiot. “Oh well, you know. A teacher is only as good as the student?”

“Hmmm. That doesn’t sound right but okay.”

“It’s been a long day; give me a break.”

“Oh? What happened? Do I need to come back and fuck someone up?”

“You and I both know that you are all fight with no muscle to back it up.”

“I’m _scrappy_.”

“You’re about as intimidating as a puppy.”

“A puppy with big paws.”

“Not intimidating. Just adorable.”

“You still haven’t told me what happened.”

Ryo sat up and scooted back to lean against his bed frame. John _harumphed_ from being jostled but adjusted to lay his head on his owner’s lap and settled in for a nap. “Nothing in particular happened. I just miss you, is all.” 

A beat passed and Ryo’s heart felt like it was in his stomach. _Why did you say that why did you say that that’s so weird why are you like this he probably hates y-_

“I miss you, too,” Akira finally responded, voice soft and quiet. “I mean, I have Miki to hang out with here, but I miss you snarking at me and trying to steal my desserts.”

Ryo’s heart soared and then crashed again at the mention of Miki. He’d never met the girl or her family, preferring to meet Akira out in public rather than go to her house on the rare occasion that the two of them got to hang out in person. He didn’t want to put a face to the name because he was irrationally afraid that the face would be pretty. 

He didn’t know how he should feel, but he knew that he did feel very badly about it all. 

“Haha, yeah,” he said, trying not to sound forced even though he felt vaguely nauseous. “How is Miki?” 

“She’s good! She keeps bugging me to join some clubs or a sport or something, but I’m not really into it. She says I need to be more social, but I’d rather just have her and you, to be honest. You know me, I prefer to just have a few close friends rather than trying to juggle a lot of sort-of friends.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I definitely understand that.” Akira did not ask if Ryo had made any new friends since he transferred. Ryo did not volunteer the information that he hadn’t. 

“Speaking of which, we should try to meet up tomorrow at the park near my old house! I haven’t seen you in a bit and I need my Asuka fix.”

Ryo smiled into the phone and pulled his legs up to rest his arms on. The sick feeling in his stomach cleared considerably with the knowledge that Akira still wanted him around, wasn’t viewing his transfer as a blessed escape from some obligation to be friends with the strange blond kid no one else liked. “That’d be great, yeah! I can probably bum my dad’s car and drive us.”

“You’re not old enough to drive and we are not criminals in this household, Asuka.”

“Whose household? And I can drive perfectly fine, so there’s no reason we’d get pulled over!”

“The Fudo-Asuka Household of Friendship and you forget that I’ve ridden with you before while your dad was teaching you and you’re a fucking madman behind the wheel. I’ll meet you at the park by public transport, thank-you-very-much.”

Ryo liked the sound of their last names together (as a household!) far too much. “Fine, if you wanna be a fuddy-duddy. What time?”

“Is noon okay?”

“Yeah, that should work. I’ll pencil you in.”

“Like you even have a calendar.”

“I _have_ a calendar, it’s just empty. Except for the park tomorrow at noon.” 

“I’m sure. Alright, I should get off the phone - I’ll see you then!”

“Sounds good. See you later, Akira.” The line went dead as Akira hung up, but Ryo continued to hold the phone for a moment as though the conversation would continue as long as the phone was in his hand.

Alas, all good things must come to an end eventually, and Ryo hung up the phone as his dad knocked at his doorway and leaned his head in.

“Can I come in?” Masao asked, lingering in the doorway. 

Ryo leaned back again, crossing his arms over his bent legs and resting his chin on top. “Yeah, of course.”

Masao strolled in and sat on the edge of the bed next to him with a sigh. “How’s Akira?”

“He’s good. I’m gonna meet him at the park tomorrow if that’s okay.”

“I hope you’re not planning on stealing my car to do so,” Masao said, eyebrows drawn but a playful look in his eyes.

“It’s only stealing if I don’t have permission. Can I use the car tomorrow?”

Masao heaved a mock long-suffering sigh and patted him briefly on the head, making Ryo wrinkle his nose at being babied. “Sure. I’m glad you’re seeing him, because I need to talk to you about something.”

The ominous wording made Ryo’s anxiety come rushing back, but he tried to maintain a calm facade. 

“Oh? What about?”

Masao bit and licked at his lip for a moment, visibly considering his words. 

“You know how my research recently has been on the Mayan civilization?”

“Yeah?” Ryo didn’t know what he had expected, but that wasn’t it.

“Well, I got a message today confirming that my grant to go to a dig site in Mexico went through, and I want to bring you with me.”

Ryo shot up. “Wait, what? To Mexico? Can’t I just stay here? How long are you going to be over there?”

“It’s only a few months so far, but could be longer if we find anything particularly interesting. It’s too long to leave you here by yourself and frankly, I think a change would do you good. You’re festering a little bit.”

“Festering? What do you mean? I brought you a progress report the other day. My grades are fine,” Ryo scowled.

“I don’t mean academically. I’m not worried about you as a student. I’m worried about you emotionally. I don’t think you’re happy and I don’t know what to do for you, but I think some time away from Japan and some adventures abroad could be nice,” Masao explained carefully, a look of concern on his face.

“I don’t want to leave Japan. I’m fine, Dad, it’s just been a rough year. It’s no reason to leave the country.”

“Not in and of itself, perhaps, but I’m going to be gone for quite a while and I would miss you too much and I don’t want you by yourself for that long. Besides, it will be fun! Visiting another country is a really great experience that you’ve not had enough of.” Masao smiled at his son and placed his hand on his bent knee, gently shaking it as though that would impart some of his enthusiasm onto Ryo. 

It didn’t.

“When will this happen?” Ryo asked, visibly distraught.

“It’s not finalized quite yet, but soon. Maybe three weeks?”

Ryo threw his dad’s hand off of his knee. “THREE WEEKS? What the hell, Dad?! You couldn’t give me more warning than that before completely displacing me?!”

Masao folded his hands in his lap and frowned. “I didn’t want to say anything in case the grant didn’t go through. No reason to bring it up if it wasn’t going to happen.”

“I think there’s _plenty_ reasons to let me know if I’m moving halfway across the world! What about school?” _What about Akira?_

“You’ll be tutored while we’re there and help me in the field. Experiential education is better than sitting in a classroom anyway. It’ll be fun if you let it.”

Ryo curled his legs in even further and rested his face down on them, hiding it from his dad’s view. Masao’s face crumpled.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this would make you so upset. I thought you might be excited.”

Ryo didn’t answer.

Masao removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “I ordered dinner and it should be here soon. Do you need to be alone until then?”

Ryo nodded his head but kept his face hidden.

Masao stood up and defeatedly made his way to the door. 

“I’ll let you know when our food’s here, okay?”

With only a grunt for a response, Masao retreated back to his office.

With his dad gone, Ryo let the tears start falling. Sensing his owner’s distress, John nudged at his face with his nose and tried to get him to face him, but he just curled in tighter on himself. With his dad’s words swirling in his head and his dog’s nose snuffling at his ear, only one question repeated itself in Ryo’s mind:

_How long will I be away from Akira?_


	5. Birth of Serpents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Let the camera pull back_   
>  _'Til the fullness of the frame is clear and plain_   
>  _Peer into the screen until you see it all_   
>  _Like a vision in a crystal ball_
> 
> _Let it all fill with smoke_   
>  _Is this somebody's idea of a joke?_
> 
> _Let the fixer work until the silver's washed away_   
>  _And take the picture from the tray_   
>  _Look hard at what you see and then remember you and me_   
>  _And let the truth spring free_

_I have to go back home, where everything started!_ Ryo thought, sweat pouring down his face as he took the turns leading to his driveway at speeds that ought to have flipped his car into the nearby trees. A long time ago, he worried about crashing far too much to drive like he did now, but time and circumstance and terror weighed him down, pressing his foot against the gas pedal. It didn’t matter if he died. Unless he was successful, everyone would die. 

Akira had been so angry and so disappointed with him as he unraveled. The world was falling apart and they had _failed_. Akira didn’t, couldn’t understand - he was Devilman, he was strong enough to fight back. All Ryo had were weapons and a quick wit that was rapidly failing him. 

He lost sleep. He bit his fingernails to the quick and then bit his nail-beds bloody. He tore at his hair and rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. He yelled and clung and clutched at Akira, trying to save the one person he had left in this world. 

Akira had slapped him aside and fought anyway. There was nothing for him to do but try to get ahold of himself and find some way to fight alongside him.

He eventually reached the driveway of his old home, slamming on the brakes and stumbling out, overpowered by an odd mix of fear and determination and nostalgia. 

The front gate that he had passed through countless times now laid crumpled and tangled on the ground, dangling precariously from one hinge. The nameplate on the fencepost was barely legible under the grime that had accumulated over the past two years since anyone had lived in the mansion, and Ryo took a moment to brush his thumb over the name so that “Asuka” stood out once more, a golden outline starkly contrasted by the debris around it. 

He made his way up to the remains of the front door, where his dad’s old car sat hanging halfway inside the house from when he and Akira had been chased by the demon that fateful night. He lightly dragged his hand across the vehicle’s side as he crossed the threshold into his childhood home. 

Everything was exactly as he’d left it. The mansion’s isolation up on the deeply forested hill had protected it from looters and adventurous teenagers despite the treasures hidden within. Time and nature, however, had not treated the home well: open doors and broken windows had allowed for two years of rain and stray animals to leave their marks. Ruined carpet and moldy furniture produced a rank, wet smell that left him gagging for a second, covering his nose with his arm as he pushed further inside to his dad’s office and library. 

The office, lying much deeper inside, was thankfully much better preserved than the ruined entryway and living room. The checked wallpaper was yellowing and peeling at the edges and the moisture permeating the house had gotten inside the books and caused a musty smell, but that was not what drew Ryo’s attention.

The demon skull that Dr. Asuka had found in Mexico sat upon the coffee table, emitting a faint, otherworldly glow. Ryo was drawn to it, the object that had marked the end of his life as he’d known it. 

_This mask is what led us to Hell,_ he thought, _If only I never found it._

He did not know that as he lifted the mask and placed it onto his head, a swarm of demons began landing on and around the house.

Ryo opened his eyes, ready to see the same primeval, demonic world that the mask had always shown him before. However, he looked out through the open mouth of the mask to see the ugly wallpaper that his dad had insisted was “groovy.” Ryo had put on this mask many times since his father’s death, and it had shown him and later Akira the same thing every time - why wasn’t it working now? 

Shaken, he lifted the mask up over his head and lost his grip on the bulky artefact before he could set it back down. He yelped in surprise as the primary evidence he had of his dad’s work came crashing to the floor, shattering into pieces.

_Wait. A stone mask? Shattering?_

“It’s only plaster,” he said in wonder, kneeling down and examining the pieces, “plaster with a coat of phosphorescent paint!”

The only proof of the demons’ existence was a fake. 

Outside, the swarm swelled as though attracted by a beacon, like moths to a flame. Like wise men to a star. 

Ryo turned to his father’s desk in desperation, recklessly throwing aside notes on Mayan temples and religious practices that took years of digging and research to accumulate. His dad’s life work, his passion, was not what Ryo was looking for. He needed to prove that his dad had researched demons. 

He needed to prove that he wasn’t losing his mind. That he hadn’t lost his mind a long time ago. 

He scrambled through page after page, book after book, but there were no notes on demons to be found. 

“They’re not here anymore! All of my dad’s studies!” Ryo said to himself, pulling the desk drawer out to sort through pens, scribbled half-thoughts on notecards, and snack wrappers. “But I’ve seen them - there were a lot! Even his diary disappeared!” 

Giving up on the desk, he turned to the bookshelf. “I just need the slightest thing,” he muttered, “some proof of what happened…” 

He spotted the photo album his mom had painstakingly updated throughout his childhood and his dad had taken over after her death. At a loss, he pulled it out. Maybe his dad put some photos in from Mexico that he could use?

He began flipping through the stiff pages and was suddenly and distinctly uncomfortable. He recognized the pictures and remembered sitting on his mom’s lap, cuddled against her while she showed him his baby pictures and talked about how they came to adopt him. The memory was so crisp: the texture of his mom’s blouse, the smell of her perfume, the feeling of being  
warm and safe and loved. And yet this memory that was so dear to him felt _wrong._

He stared at the small child in the pictures and remembered posing for a few of them but was overcome by the irrational feeling that that boy _was not him._ Sure, he’d changed - his hair had lightened a bit, he’d grown into his features, his face had matured - but this boy, who he remembered being, who he _knew he was,_ felt like a stranger who he was spying on. 

The more he looked at this intimately familiar, uncannily unfamiliar boy, the more distressed he became. Consciously, he knew this was ridiculous, and he shouldn’t be having this reaction to old pictures of himself. Subconsciously, he felt viscerally ill, because this was _wrong wrong wrong wrong wro-_

He stopped. He had reached the final page of the album. Just as he hoped, it was a picture from Mexico. 

It was Ryo out in the field, notebook in one hand and water bottle in the other, using the notebook to shield his eyes from the bright Mexican sunlight. He wasn’t looking at the camera but out into the distance, probably at one of his dad’s colleagues. He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter now. The boy in the photo with scratched knees showing under his shorts and a long-sleeved shirt protecting his fair skin from the sun that illuminated his hair was not the man holding the photo album now. 

The photo was captioned, in his dad’s shaky handwriting, “Today, Ryo died in a car accident.”

The demon swarm reached a crescendo. 

The photo album fell to the floor as Ryo _(Ryo?)_ backed away slowly. His hands reached up to grasp at his hair, more golden than that of the boy in the pictures. _Who is that boy._

“Who am I?” he asked the musty air of the Asuka mansion. “I am _not_ Asuka Ryo! Dad didn’t do any research about the demons! _I don’t understand_ -”

He was snapped from his breakdown by the sound of glass shattering behind him. He turned to find several demons rushing through a broken window straight towards him. In a panic, he turned to flee but the door burst open as more demons piled in, filling the room, surrounding him, neverending. They came from the entryways, the walls, even the ceiling. 

Between his identity crisis and the knowledge that he was about to die, he was hyperventilating, and struggled to move his hands enough to pull his gun out from his coat. He knew that there was no way he could take on this many demons, but his human instinct was to cling to life and fight to the bitter end. 

He didn’t know if he was really Asuka Ryo, but he hoped that he would at least be reunited with the man he’d called his dad and the woman he’d called his mom. He hoped there was peace and love to be found even for someone as lost as him. 

A wild-eyed demon with brilliant red fur puffing out from her torso pushed through the pack to approach him. Her eyes were glistening but emotionless, with a giant Cheshire smile painted on her large face. He was struck by the thought that she could only smile. 

She stared at him, into him, through him. He swung his gun around to aim at her, but her voice rang inside his head. Her lips did not move, but she was clearly communicating with him through telepathy alone. 

“What?!” he asked, tightening his grip on the gun, unable to shoot.

Somehow, her face softened without relaxing any muscles. Her eyes widened and Ryo’s mind split.

Every memory of being Ryo remained. Every quiet evening with his mom, every dig with his dad, every playdate with Akira. Countless innocuous, mundane, precious memories that didn’t belong to him. 

They were joined by memories that seared his brain, making him clutch his hair, fall to his knees, cry out. Memories from the dawn of time, from before the dawn of time, from before anything but him and his twin, made to serve, made to sing, made to glorify, made to destroy. Blinding white light. Warmth. The scent of milk and honey. 

The indignancy of being underappreciated. The rage of being _dismissed_. 

The fear of falling. 

Rebirth. War. Victory. Strategy. Hibernation.

_The further indignancy of having the spoils of victory, rightfully won, torn from him._

A plan. A boy. A car. A morgue. 

Another boy. Not part of the Plan. Caught up by the smallest sliver of a chance into something so much larger than he was. Both boys were. 

Ryo was dead. Akira was fighting a war. Satan remembered. 

_Welcome back, my Lord._

He relaxed his hands first, bringing them down to his sides. He stood up, rolled his shoulders back, and straightened his jacket, leaving the gun on the floor. He had no need to use such a pitiful weapon anymore, especially against his own soldiers. 

_I did not think it would take quite this long._

“This was a much more complicated strategy than we originally anticipated,” he responded coolly, impassively surveying the army of demons around him. “But I’m back now. Thank you, Jenny.” 

Psychogenie’s face, of course, remained unchanged. _How shall we proceed now, sir? Have you spent enough time as a human to know what will be most efficient?_

“I know exactly what to do.” He knew from his time as Ryo that humans were easily unhinged once they were scared. He also knew that Akira would never join him if he still had any faith in humans. 

Perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone. 

_Are you ready to return to your true body, my Lord? This one is not befitting of your status._

Satan smiled using Ryo’s mouth. “It still has use yet,” he said. “I will abandon this vessel in due time, but there is still much that I have to do as Asuka Ryo.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> This ficlet goes along with my corpse!Ryo canon and is meant to accompany my original!Ryo fst. There will be a fic/ficlet for every song in the playlist, so this is a shorty to kick things off and match the length of the opening track. 
> 
> If you wanna chat about my corpse!Ryo canon or Devilman in general, I'm over on tumblr as @ryostrenchcoat as well. :)
> 
> fst link: https://playmoss.com/en/ryostrenchcoat/playlist/there-is-a-light-that-never-goes-out


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